Uschi! (31 page)

Uschi looked upon it with an arched eyebrow and promptly came to the conclusion she wouldn’t want to be fucked with that, but she could be tempted to find out what it tastes like. She placed a hand between his thighs. A sturdy grip on what puny quantity there was available was indulged in. Since she was already down there, she thought it okay to go ahead and treat herself to the balls as well. It all settled in her hand snug and with room to spare.

She tore it all out and popped the bleeding junk into her hungry mouth before Newbomb could even begin to try and figure out what she wanted with his precious lower equator equipment. When he witnessed his pecker and plumes being gnashed to mush between her teeth, his eyeballs ballooned and he liked to have swallowed his tongue.

“My pee-pee!”

“Fair,” critiqued Uschi. “Though, if I must be bluntly honest, I’ve had better tasting come past my lips. What else have you got on you I could sample?”

Her hands plunged inside where once his man-titties resided and fingers grabbed on to ribs. She split his sternum cartilage apart down the center and opened his chest cavity as if it were the wooden shudders over a window. The papery lungs she popped open like piñatas as she clawed her way past muscle and gristle to the heart. The organ was cold, still, and had been inactive for a considerable piece of time. Its removal was no trouble for Uschi to achieve.

Newbomb’s heart was bigger than a peach but smaller than a grapefruit. It squirted and squished from all four ventricles when Uschi bit into it. It was all tough, stringy muscle that required an exhausting considerable amount of chewing before the mouthful could be swallowed. The taste was bland and not worth the chewing effort. She tossed it with but only the one bite taken from it. Brains were better.

The skull she opened with her fingers splitting the bone and lifting back the top of it like it was the hinged lid on a fisherman’s tackle box. The brain appeared plump and delectable and eager to be dined upon. Uschi took it out and put it into her mouth. It proved more palatable than that chewy heart, but it lacked the spicy zing of a certain someone else’s vampire flesh.

“Aw,” she pouted as spittle and brain fluids dribbled from the corners of her lips, “I miss my redheaded tasty-fangy boy. He was such a treat to munch on.”

Nevertheless, Uschi earnestly marshaled on and finished her cranial fete. Deciding nothing else Newbomb had appealed to her, she moved her arm faster than the eye could follow and chopped with her open hand as if it was a butcher’s meat clever straight through the neck, cutting off the dickless undead’s hollowed out head. The wonders of decapitation were once more pressed into service. Newbomb was dismissed, forgotten, and Uschi’s back to him as he commenced to slimily disintegrate to nothing.

Now was the time for best thing to have all of her attention.

“You saw it, yeah? You saw what I did to that guy?” Denny was still proud as hell with himself and having a bit of a hard time believing it was actually he who did the heroic deed. “I killed him up real good, huh? I did it right? Or did I fuck it up somehow? Truthfully, I wouldn’t be a smidgen surprised to find out I’m the one loser who could find a way to do something right but still end up doing it wrong. Did I manage someway to disappoint you?”

Crickets were out, their chirping coming from all around them. Every once and a while a barn owl or two could be heard off in the distance hooting to one another.

“Best thing, haven’t we established by now that you are not a loser and there is no way you could ever disappointment me? You did everything perfect.” She was walking across Nyman Road, bathed in the moonlight, approaching where Denny stood. “It was a Sybil Danning’s cleavage in
Battle beyond the Stars
magnificent kill. You treated that boy so slick and deadly I caught myself thinking there for a heartbeat maybe you got yourself some CIA training I never knew about.”

“Gosh. That impressed, huh?”

Now Uschi stood inches in front of him, hands going to his jeans’ zipper and laboring to remove his precious to her dick. Cradling his erection in the palm of the same hand that only a minute early had destroyed another man’s johnson, she leaned in to whisper into his ear with a soft, wet voice, “I’m always impressed with you, best thing.”

Denny was gently laid down upon the shoulder of the road’s gravel surface. Uschi mounted and inserted Denny into her. Her head tilted back and she Smurf sighed loud enough to make the surrounding wildlife go quite for a spell. Their lovemaking was fierce but passionate and for both unquestionably so far the highlight of the evening.

Chapter Twenty-two

T
he sisters Pandora and Dusty sat close beside the campfire. Pandora was lost in her clarinet playing, lips on the instrument and blowing. She sat in her chair, back stiff and knees together. Dusty busied herself with eating. She was draining one of the go-go boots and wearing nothing else lost children of Ga’Hantor who was sent scattering into the thicket after the destruction of their church and death of their arachnid god. Dusty’s food was placed on her lap like a child taking a seat on a mall Santa and her fangs in the girl’s neck, sucking her dry. She was dead, this bug girl, the spiders in her eye sockets and accumulated around the sugar booger either long ago escaping from the corpse or dead husks as well.

The sisters were conjoined twins. Cruel nature had the two forever together shoulder to shoulder and necks at a forty-five degree angle leaning into each other. The abnormal mass of bone and flesh that held them fused together was John Merrick gnarled and heavily warted and reached from temple to behind the necks at the base of each woman’s petite skull. Both sisters owned only one ear, stationed on the malformed-free side of their head. Within the two skulls, resting side by side brains shared numerous critical blood vessels and tangled synapses.

They dressed alike in simple off the shoulder patio dresses and bargain priced Wal-Mart tennis shoes. Both were honey blondes who wore their tresses in long and flowing lazy curls. They appeared to be teenagers not old enough yet to earn driver’s licenses. In reality, if they were still living human beings, they’d be old enough by now to be receiving Medicare and full Social Security benefits.

Pandora finished on the clarinet, and Dusty took her food off her mouth, spat a blood clot out from between her two front fangs, and said, “I know that music. I’ve heard it before. That’s an Elvis song, right?”

“’In the Ghetto,’” said Pandora, using the skirt of her dress to wipe away the spittle and lipstick collected on the clarinet’s reed.

“I thought I knew it. Mac Davis wrote that song, you know?”

“He sure did. Mr. “It’s Hard to be Humble’ himself.”

This piece of the Mapache Thicket had dodged a bullet and been spared the ravages of the previous night’s flooding. The old goat ranch home near the vampires’ campsite was just visible in the glow of the ass high on a bull campfire’s flames. The place was about as shithole as shithole a place could hope to achieve. Nothing more than a condemned squatter’s hovel, with all window glass long ago busted out and its roof weather-stripped of shingles. The puny traces of paint somehow managing to remain clinging to the clapboard outer walls was peeling back like the dried and dead skin flaps hanging from a palm blister. Just the type of decrepit hacienda a Bram Stoker reader would assume a vampire would be residing in.

Actually, the sisters spent their daylight resting hours keeping it cozy in the comfortable trunk space of a Mary Kay Cosmetics top earner of the year pink 1981 four-door Coup de Ville Cadillac parked in the weed-choked dirt driveway leading to the wretched old house.

“What was that shitty movie Mac starred in?” asked Dusty.

“
North Dallas Forty
?”

“No, that one was halfway pretty decent. Nick Nolte was a total dick, but Bo Svenson had a few funny moments.
North Dallas Forty
was enough of a hit it got some believing maybe Mac Davis could be the new Burt Reynolds. I’m thinking of that turkey comedy Mac did where he played this low-rent private eye that thought he was the absolute sexiest thing going. I remember there was this scene in it where he goes undercover as a gay boy and it was so much a nasty caricature it would make even a fire and brimstone Baptist minister flinch in discomfort to watch it.”

“That sounds like
Cheaper to Keep Her
.”

“That’s it—
Cheaper to Keep Her
. What a stinky shitball. It right quickly tanked at the box office and murdered any chances of him ever becoming another Burt the flirt.”

“Yeah, you don’t ever hear too much about ol’ Mac Davis anymore, do you?”

“No, you certainly do not.”

A third party then joined the conversation. This was Denny Gleeth doing the talking.

“Hey now, don’t y’all come down too awful brutal on the man. I recall him doing an A plus job portraying Davy Crockett in a cable TV show. Fess Parker would’ve been impressed and the Duke humiliated with how confidently Mac played the celebrated frontiersman. And that one song he got—‘Baby, Don’t Get Hooked on Me’—has always been able to sneak up on me and touch me in that soft spot in my heart.”

The sisters were not expecting any company. The surprised conjoined living dead twins turned as one in the direction the voice originated from. They watched as Denny and Uschi, holding hands and giving one another lovey-dovey glances like happy newlyweds, stepped into the light of the fire.

Pandora eyed the couple with tangible disgust and theorized, “This is what Ken and Barbie would look like if they were made from dogshit.”

“Ding-dong, Avon calling,” said an all tits and dead flesh and brassy attitude Uschi. “You fine-looking Thalidomide ladies care to share any stories about what it was like on the set of
Freaks
? What kind of a half-man was Johnny Eck in real life? Which one of y’all sideshow hotties had to give Todd Browning head to get a role in the classic film? Is it true this one day when F. Scott Fitzgerald saw you two eating in the MGM cafeteria he was so disgusted he had no choice but to vomit? Come on, let’s gossip.”

The conjoined vampire twins, all skull deformities and murderous intentions, rose from their seats and the child of Ga’Hantor corpse was discarded. They concentrated and focused their thoughts. They reached out with their special united minds’ telekinetic abilities and had at it. Invisible hands formed into existence and grabbed Denny, snatching his feet off the ground.

“I could do without this,” he desperately whined, and his startled figure was raised higher and higher. His legs were slapped together and arms were forced out straight at his sides. He was carried to the driveway and slammed down on the pink Caddy, crucified against the hood by the power of the mind.

“French ticklers for school children!” he yelped as the shock absorbers calmed and the car steadied.

This telekinesis shit doesn’t play around. Denny uselessly strained and squirmed to break loose. He could accomplish nothing, couldn’t move so much as a finger unless Pandora and Dusty allowed it.

Big-tittied and resoundingly RIP qualified Uschi rushed them, fists raised and lips skinned back from the teeth and ready to go zombie apocalypse and rip into people meat.

Their telekinesis could multitask. As Denny was rendered a non-threat, Pandora and Dusty now put attention to the homemade zombie girlfriend without ever relinquishing any of the mind effort they employed against him. They sent a forceful mental command her way, just as she was beginning to bolt, arresting her forward progress to an abrupt dead stop and proceeding to haul her backwards. Her smart mouth they hadn’t appreciated, so even that they shut off; lips sealed closed and vocal cords stopped. She was brains escorted away a fair distance from Pandora and Dusty, placed into a corner like a naughty child being disciplined for disrupting the class. There, she’d keep like that until they were ready to take care of her.

Meanwhile, they reached inside Denny and played around amongst the contents of his chest. Mental forces moved and wriggled about and pushed aside whatever fleshy object was in the way. He gritted his teeth and groaned from the pain of it. Things quickly settled on the lower left rib, knotted around it like bridle reins wrapping about a hitching post. It was a snug and tight hold.

“Tell us how this suits you, young man,” said Dusty.

Crack!

The rib effortlessly snapped in two as if it were nothing more than a stale breadstick. Denny screamed at the agonizing pain, and the sisters made rib pieces jiggle about, agitating nerve endings and increasing the hurt.

“Sounds like it don’t suit him one bit,” said Pandora.

“I would agree,” said a smiling Dusty. “Look at him—I don’t believe he is enjoying our special kind of company. We keep this up, and he could learn to hate us.”

“We are so wicked sometimes, aren’t we?”

“We’ve caused him pain; now let’s treat him to a touch of delight.”

“Oh, I believe we can manage a trick like that.”

They mentally went after Denny’s dick. They assumed control and made the blood come rushing to that specific area and commanded an erection into being.

“Hey now,” commented a no longer screaming Denny.

Their telekinetic powers allowed them a sense of scale when manipulating a physical object, and when Dusty and Pandora surmised the size of his dork, they were not too roundly impressed. They giggled over it like a pair of mean high school girls. They began to stroke him, jacking him off.

“Connie Mason for President!” he wild-eyed swore.

“I love doing shit like this,” said Pandora. “We’ll let him have this goodness for a short while, and then tear him inside out from nostrils to asshole.”

There was no holding back. Climax quickly was achieved and Denny soiled his underwear with his hot, sticky dude goo to the laughter of the conjoined at the head sisters.

“I thought I recognized those voices.”

Once again, Li’l Bocephus.

He came good ol’ boy strutting out of the old house, scratching at his balls and wearing the same tattered, assless filthy jeans and sleeves long gone western shirt on him as the last time living dead girlfriend and her alive boyfriend had seen him. With his ROY ROGERS FUCKED MY MOMMA tattooed arm he dragged along behind him another exsanguinated spider girl corpse, gripping her by an ankle. The inner right thigh of her leg had been savaged, skin and other wet materials violated as Li’l Bocephus’s fingers had gone digging around inside there and hunted down the femoral artery. Elastic as the most pliable of rubber, he stretched the capillary out until it comfortably reached his lips. He’d used the sharp edge of a thumbnail to slice the narrow tube open and put it in his mouth like it were a straw in a Coke and had leisurely drank her dead.